Projectiles
by Beloved Discord
Summary: Because when ideas fly, some make it to their destination, and others just aren't so lucky and fall short. A collection of first chapters that can fly either way. Harry centric. Slash.
1. Stop and Rewind

**Summary**: Sometimes the first playtime isn't enough, and sometimes you miss things until you repeat it over. The second time through, Harry discovers what he missed the first time around. Suddenly the second playtime is looking a whole lot like a whole new song. Now if only the new listeners would go with it.

**Pairings**: Tom/Harry

**Warnings**: Male/Male relationship and language.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all copyrighted material that fall under this category belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Author Note**: Apologies for any grammatical errors.

..

**Stop and Rewind  
**Chapter One: Upturned

..

He felt like throwing up. His head felt heavy, clouded, and for all his effort, he couldn't seem to grasp a single understandable thought. Arms and legs felt like they weighed a ton, and worse of all, his stomach felt like it was turning inside out. He groaned, whimpering as tears started to form. His eyes were clenched tight while his arms wrapped themselves around his middle, and already his body was instinctively curling up into a fetal position.

"Horace! Quickly! Quickly!"

At the shrill voice, the shaking body violently flinched. Through his hazy mind, he recognized the hurried footsteps, the heavy panting and the panicked atmosphere. And then, hands were forcing his arms away, moving his head upwards, and forcing his mouth open despite his protests. A nasty flavour invaded his taste buds, and about a minute after the potion's administration, the sleeping draught took effect. Just before losing consciousness, the boy's cloudy mind wondered briefly when it was that Snape's potions had started to lose its potency.

The nurse sagged in relief when the child stopped struggling and fell into the induced sleep due to the potion. She sank into the chair that had been positioned next to the bed ever since her newest patient had arrived. Taking out her wand, she ignored her fatigue due to the late hour, and waved it over her patient muttering spells to check her young charge's status.

"Matilda?" a deep voice spoke lightly, momentarily diverting the woman's attention.

She flushed in embarrassment having forgotten his presence, "My apologies Horace." Her blond hair was in disarray, and she tucked a stray strand away behind her ear. "The poor child," she murmured, waving her wand again to check her patient's temperature.

Horace chuckled, though it lacked its usual easiness, "nothing to apologize for my dear. How is our patient tonight?"

She gave a weak smile, one eye still surveying the bedridden boy, "better, I suppose." The spell revealed that temperature wise, the unconscious body was just slightly above average. She sighed in relief, "better than when he had arrived." She pointed to her chart where the a quill had automatically been recording the results from her spells earlier, "his fever has gone down drastically these past few days which is a great relief."

"But?" Horace asked, sensing that there was more. She gave him a grim smile, "but I still can't discover the source of his fever. His bloodstream is clear of poisons or of any potions that we haven't administered."

The head of Slytherin nodded solemnly, scanning the boy from where he was, "his injuries perhaps?"

"Were already closed," she said shaking her head. Her lips pursed, fingers tightening around her wand, "though how he could have acquired such wounds." Horace silently agreed with her.

When the boy had been discovered on the school grounds, a two weeks before the new school year was to start, the staff had been in a panic. The raven haired child, for he looked undoubtedly young, had been unconscious, but despite that fact, he had been whimpering and writhing in pain. The old groundskeeper had been stricken with alarm, shouting for the staff present. Armando Dippet had been quick to suggest St. Mungo's but Matilda would have none of that. The child was already in such a state, and while she was there, she wouldn't see to the child being moved. It was already risky in physically moving the boy from the grounds into the school, Merlin knows how much damage the child would have undergone through magical transportation.

"Have the scars faded at all?"

Matilda blinked, abruptly turning away from her thoughts. She bit her lip nervously, "no, for some reason, the balms and creams aren't responding the way they're supposed to."

Horace's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, "what do you mean?"

She heaved a sigh, "it's as if he's immune to it." She pointed to the empty phial, "we _have_ to use the most potent of potions or else there's no result. The weakest sleeping draughts and calming potions have no effect on him whatsoever!" She waved her arms up in exasperation, "it's as if his immune system is resistant to all alien substances and rejects them. And," she paused, "it seems as if his body is adapting to the potent potions we're administering and is actually starting to resist its effects."

The potion master's eyes widened in disbelief, "that's impossible!" he sputtered.

She nodded, "that's what I said too when it came to me, but," she groaned tiredly, "it's the only conclusion that I can draw up with at the moment."

Silence stretched throughout the dim room as Horace Slughorn let the new piece of information sink in. And then all too suddenly, he felt the late hour weighing him down. The sun wasn't even up yet, and the room was cast in darkness, the only light sources coming from the small oil-lamp on the bedside table and from the fire where he had flooed in from after Matilda's panicked summons.

"Have you-"

"No," she shook her head, "this rationalization is just too illogical, it's simply a conjecture."

He sat back, eyes looking over the sleeping boy. "Well, have we a name for the boy?"

"No. The blood sample I received back from St. Mungo's came up with no match or identity. Although," her eyes scrunched up in confusion, "it was closely tied to the Potter's bloodline, but not quite."

"Oh?" Horace's curiously piqued in interest, "do tell."

"Well," the woman began, "the physical resemblance to the family is there, but in the blood sample there were only traces here and there of Potter origin and ancestry. Not strong enough for the family head to step in." The Slytherin head nodded, urging the nurse to continue. "From the rest of his blood sample, St. Mungo's couldn't bring up any conclusions as to the child's identity. There are no records of his blood sample stored." Horace blinked in surprise. "It's as if he were a muggleborn. And they would've labelled him as such if not for the strong magical residue."

"Strong you say?"

"Yes," the nurse answered, getting up from her seat after her patient had yet to stir. "And you know," she shot him a pointed look, "only the old magical bloodlines develop the tendency to give off magical residue in blood."

"So, we have ourselves a mystery then," he chuckled. She rolled her eyes in good humour, humming in response as she blew the lamp out. "When will he wake?"

Looking to where Horace was positioned in front of the fire, one hand full of floo powder, Matilda answered, "Tomorrow at the earliest, I suppose." He nodded, a smile coming to his face. Perhaps once the child awoke, some of their questions would be answered.

"Good night Horace."

"G'night to you as well my dear Matilda," he saw her lips twitch just before the floo whisked him away.

Matilda glanced one last time at the small frail child before shutting the door. She waved her wand to monitor the child; alerting her at any time should the boy's status changed.

_I open at the close._

_Death: that had been his fate. It was his life in exchange for all of theirs. Dumbledore had known and Harry felt his heart throb painfully from the known fact. From the moment Voldemort's stray soul piece had latched itself to him he had been condemned to die._

"…_pity the living."_

_He had boarded the train._

"…_say goodbye for the present."_

_Goodbye _**for**_ the present? _

It was the voices that Harry first heard. It penetrated through the hazy mist of his mind, slowing prodding him to consciousness.

"…Armando!"

"…age…St…go's…orphanage…"

He felt numb all over, his eyelids heavy. Stirring slightly, Harry opened his eyes, only to regret the action when bright lights overwhelmed his vision.

"Oh my!" an arm came to assist him in sitting him up. Harry wanted to thank the woman, but all that came out was a gasp. Her worried face flooded his vision, eyes crinkled in concern, her wand already out and waving over his head.

He cleared his throat, "t-thank you." He winced at the hoarse sound.

"If you please, what's your name child?"

Child? Harry swerved his attention away from the unfamiliar nurse only to gasp. Armando Dippet blinked in confusion at the boy's reaction. Harry simply gawked, recognizing the face from the Horcruxe-Diary in his second year.

"Take this," a potion was shoved into Harry's hands from the nurse.

"Matilda?" Dippet's brow lifted. She scowled at him, "he needs a calming draught. The child's been in enough pain and stress as it is without you needing to put him under the Spanish Acquisition." He flushed at the reprimand, clearing his throat nervously.

"Ah hem, I simply wanted a name. After all, we can't call him 'child' or 'boy' for the rest of his stay here."

Neither noticed Harry's recoil at the word 'boy.' He swallowed the potion when the nurse Matilda looked sternly over at him a moment later, "Er…my name's Harry," he whispered.

"Harry…" Dippet urged the boy to continue.

Warily watching the man step closer to his bed now, Harry handed the nurse back the empty phial. "Potter," he said shortly. The man stopped where he was, face perplexed.

"He has the resemblance," Matilda murmured, stirring Armando from his stupor.

Harry fidgeted, mind still hazy, but all too aware of the past Hogwart's headmaster and his intense stare. What exactly was going on? Perhaps he was still in some limbo phase?

"Where am I?"

"Why, Hogwarts my dear," the nurse said, watching him carefully.

"Oh."

Harry didn't say anything else, only blinking blankly, absently noting he was missing his glasses. Dippet cleared his throat from where he was standing at the foot of Harry's bed. "Well now, _Harry_," and said boy noticed with a small amount of amusement that the man didn't address him by his surname, "do you know how you ended up in Hogwarts?"

"Headmaster! He isn't up to any questions!" Matilda raged, and Harry was absently reminded of his own school nurse.

"Um…" both adults snapped their attention to him. And though the nurse Matilda had defended him, Harry sensed that she too was curious as to his origins as well. Not quite understanding his situation or what his happening, he decided to just go with the truth. "Well, I got a piece of someone's else's soul removed from mine," he ignored the baffled faces. Absently, he wondered how dead people could be surprised, surely they were all-seeing, "ended up in limbo," their faces distorted to pure disbelief now, "boarded the limbo-land's Hogwart's Express…and here I am." He even raised both arms, waving them in an exaggerated motion, to emphasize the point. Here he was, and most likely in another limbo-phase, maybe he was here to 'accept' all that had happened to him or something? After all, he was in the hospital wing, a place for healing.

"Here you are," the headmaster repeated flatly, "the truth this time young man."

Harry blinked owlishly. "I'm dead," he simply said, completely solemn and honest.

Matilda stared in disbelief, "you, are _not_ dead young man!" Harry shifted at the sharp tone. "Don't you dare joke about dying!" He stared at her, "but I am dead…got hit by an Avada Kedavra curse."

Both adults paled at hearing the incantation. "W-where did you learn the name of that curse?" Dippet whispered in distress. Harry leaned back, still puzzled from where he was.

"Hard not to know it, it was what killed my mom and dad. What killed my friends and family," he thought back to parents, "and what killed me too." He stretched his arms over his head, still feeling sleepy.

"Grindlewald," Matilda whispered horrified.

"Course not," Harry said, dropping his arms and startling the two other occupants of the room. He waved his hand at them flippantly, "Grindlewald was defeated decades ago. My life would've been easier if it were him around instead of old Snake face."

"D-defeated?" Matilda gawked in disbelief. Dippet though, caught the key words, "decades ago?" He questioned in a hushed voice.

Absently, Harry nodded, eyes closed. "Course, back before my parents were even born. I think…about forty or so years back? I'm not quite sure though, I'm rubbish with history."

Matilda's breath caught, finally understanding. "A-and," she cleared her throat, "w-what year is it?"

The boy opened is eyes, staring at her mystified, but answered nonetheless, "1998 of course."

The resulting happenings due to Harry's answer were first responded to by the sharp intakes of breath by both Matilda and Armando. "Did I say something wrong?" the boy bit his lip nervously watching the two's reaction. Again, dead people do _not_ do surprise.

"The blood sample," Matilda said breathlessly, "oh course!"

Harry looked at her owlishly. Dippet eyed her, looking away from the boy hurriedly, "Matilda?"

"The diluted Potter blood," she pointed at a wide-eyed Harry, "it would make sense that, generations later, his blood wouldn't match up perfectly with the present Potter bloodline!" She looked at the boy in awe, "a time traveller, my word, I've seen it all now."

"Time traveller?" Dippet and Harry both spoke simultaneously.

Harry froze from where he was. Flashes of memory rapidly swamped him. The clouded place, Dumbledore, the Hogwart's Express, Horcruxes, Voldemort. Harry's eyes widened in horror, his mouth open in shock. "No," was his strangled whisper. "No, no, no, no," the boy continued to chant, his hands clenching the sheets tightly.

"Matilda!" Dippet whispered sharply.

The nurse sat down heavily, watching the child. Dippet groaned, wondering why again he had accepted the position as headmaster, a position where he would have to deal with children. He did not handle children very well.

"Merlin, what a mess," he mumbled.

Harry shot him an icy glare, "it's not as if I asked for this to happen to me!"

The man ignored him, "the Unspeakables will have to be contacted, and oh Merlin, the thought of the paperwork is enough to give me a headache." He started pacing, one hand covering his eyes as though hoping Harry would disappear, "and he's already been seen by the staff!" The man moaned in self distress.

"Well pardon me for being visible! The next time I die, I'll make sure to request the ability to make myself transparent!" the green-eyed boy snapped. After his shock, it was understandable that the occurrence should irk him more than the old headmaster, and the fact that it was the opposite annoyed him.

At the word 'die,' the nurse snapped back to attention, frowning at the child in disapproval. "Now Mr. Potter, what did I say about joking around with death?"

The boy scowled, making his pale face look even more sickly, "I'm not joking around."

Dippet ignored him again, "I'll be heading off to the Ministry now, I suppose." He eyed Harry warily, as though the child would leap from the bed to strangle him, "time-traveller…" He flooed out of the room in a hurry as if the very words burned him.

Harry snorted, eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I don't like him."

A small sound escaped Matilda as she moved across the room with the empty phial. It sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter.

"When can I leave?"

The nurse stopped abruptly, turning with a raised brow, "when you are completely healed."

Harry scowled again, he hated the hospital wing. It seemed as though half his time spent in Hogwarts was spent in this very room. "There's nothing wrong with me," aside from the mental trauma, he mused. He sensed more than saw the woman rolling her eyes at him from where her back was facing him.

"I'll see to that."

"Do tell," he drawled, "what is it exactly that's wrong with me." Of course his past year hunting death eaters would install in him with an appreciation for sarcasm and cynicism.

He had to grin when she stopped from where she was, rummaging through potions, to stutter. And of course, the woman had nothing to say other than, "you just woke up after five days of being unconscious!"

He merely blinked, "I've been knocked out for much longer periods of time, and each time I've been perfectly alright." He lifted the sheet covering him, frowning at the hospital gown, "I've been worse, this is nothing."

"Stop!" she called, already heading to where he was.

Harry looked around and growled in frustration when his wand was nowhere in sight. "The bloody hell," he muttered. He expertly dodged the nurses' spells, jumping over the bed to lift the pillow over, "not there." He ducked again, opening the drawer on the bedside table.

"Hey," he called over, stopping the nurse momentarily, "where's my wand?"

"There was no wand found with you," her eye twitched, "will you get on the bed now? I don't want to stun a patient so young just so he can rest."

"I'm seventeen!" he shouted over, then frowned. "No wand?" he muttered in confusion.

The woman gawked in disbelief, "s-seventeen?" He nodded absently at her, walking around to check under the pillow again. She stared at the boy's short stature, "but, but you can't be any older than twelve!"

Harry froze, a tick developing on his eyebrow. "I'm bloody seventeen years old." He knew he was short, but try living ten years in a cupboard along with going through the dismal diet that he had, and see if they came any taller. And if they did, then they could tell him he looked bloody twelve.

"Mr. Harrison James Potter. Born on the thirty-first day of the month July?"

Both Harry and Matilda jumped.

Next to the fire ahead of the flustered headmaster was a hooded man, and what Harry recognized instantly as an Unspeakable. The boy nodded, lips closed tightly as the man lowered his clipboard.

"Come with me, young savoir."

While Matilda's and Dippet's eyes were scrunched up in confusion, Harry's were narrowed in suspicion.

"How'd you know that?"

The man paused, seemingly to look over at the two other adults in the room before addressing the little brunette, "here is not the place. There is much to talk about, please come with me."

After a moment's deliberation, the boy nodded, though he was still gazing suspiciously over at the hooded man. He looked like a damn death eater in that robe, and if memories served correctly, death eaters didn't make the best of the emotion trust.

"W-wait!" Matilda startled, "he needs to rest!"

Harry wondered if all nurses came with some installed setting to stop all patients from leaving, no matter the circumstances. Or was it just the nurses that he knew, after all, the ones with Lockheart never seemed that determined or stubborn.

The hooded man turned to the two, "do not alert any to our presence here." And before the two could answer, the man pulled a startled and disgruntled green-eyed boy along with him through the floo.

About a minute after the green flames had disappeared, Dippet groaned in distress, "but the staff has already seen him!"

Matilda simply gaped, mind still grasping the fact that her patient was seventeen and that he had disappeared not five minutes later. And Dippet continued to moan over the fact that children were nothing but trouble. Why had he allowed his wife to convince him to take the position of school headmaster?

..


	2. To Catch A Falling Star

**Summary**: When they hadn't been enough, they had been made to be enough. Now with the war over, their existence has become viewed as dangerous. They are no longer needed as the weapons they've become, but they cannot remember what it had been like before they were trained and created to be this way. There is no one that doesn't fear them in the wizarding world and even their former families have their reservations. Rufus Scrimgeour's last order before his disappearance is for the three Gryffindors to reintegrate back into society. But after functioning so long as weapons, the three are at a lost at what next to do after being dismissed from their position at the Ministry. Their commanding officer is gone, and now there is no one that can direct them. Lost in this new freedom, the three struggle to savage what is left of their former selves, all the while coping with what they have had to do since losing themselves.

**Pairings**: Ron/Hermione, Harry/Undetermined

**Warnings**: Graphic violent scenes and dark story plot.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all copyrighted material that fall under this category belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Author Note**: Apologies for any grammatical errors.

…

**To Catch A Falling Star**  
Chapter One: Devil's Advocate

…

_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,  
__How I wonder how far you'll fall._

…

"Assignment completed, experiments 01, 02, and 03 ready for field testing."

"Excellent, ready the prisoners," Scrimgeour grimaced, mouth set in a hard line, "and ready experiments 01 to 03. Field testing will commence immediately."

"Understood," the hooded Unspeakable left the room.

Rufus Scrimgeour closed his eyes, hands clenched tightly at his sides from where he stood. He was the Minister of Magic, he reminded himself silently. That meant he had a responsibility towards the magical community, towards his people and their continued survival. And that meant that sometimes hard decisions had to be made. Decisions that could win or lose the war that magical Britain had been entangled in for nearly two generations already. Sometimes things had to happen. Sometimes he had to let things happen.

"Prisoners have been released into the maze. Shall we release 01, 02 and 03?"

Scrimgeour opened his eyes, peering downwards into the clear dome that had been erected for this very purpose. The warding had cost the Ministry immensely, but the end result was an entrapped maze within the dome. It was perfect for watching the experiments at work. It was like watching a hunter hunt its prey. It was almost like watching a Quidditch match. Simply watching a sport.

Scrimgeour felt sick.

Wetting his lips, he responded into the mouthpiece, "Release 01, 02 and 03."

From his headset, all the Minister heard was static, and he knew that his orders had been fulfilled.

As always.

"Experiments 01 to 03 have entered the maze. Operation assignment has commenced."

And like always in response to the familiar phrase, the Minister stared blankly into the dome, watching as the Death Eater prisoners raced blindly throughout the maze. At the entrance to the maze were three small figures, slowly entering the hedged labyrinth.

The hunt had begun.

…

Left.

Right.

Right.

Centre.

Left.

Cough.

And then he was hit, his cough twisting into a scream as he was blasted through several of the hedges' walls. His arms came defensively around his head, but that didn't stop all the thorns from ripping into his prison rags or into his flesh.

"No, no, no," the man whimpered.

A small figure blasted her way through the walls to walk slowly over to him.

His eyes were wide, registering the small form of the child as she continued to make her way over. He scrambled away, but he was already against another wall of hedges.

"Mistake," the girl articulated in a whisper, her brown eyes blank as she looked over the prisoner, "making yourself known to the enemy. Always remain hidden."

Blood was flowing freely from his pierced flesh, but he couldn't care less as the girl continued to take her small measured steps. Her brown eyes bored into his with an intensity that had his breath catching in his throat.

The child paused, three knives held out in her right hand, plainly in his sight. He shook harder. She took another step forwards, "Gregory Goyle, confirmed death eater."

It wasn't just the deadpanned tone that scared him, oh no, Gregory Goyle had met many with the same tone. It was a combination of things that had him now whimpering. He knew he was going to die. But he wasn't scared only because of that. He was scared that something like her existed. That something like her could be created. Had been created.

During his stay in the Ministry cells, he had heard hesitant whispers, rumours he had thought, of what was happening in the Department of Mysteries. He hadn't given it much thought as he had only been concerned with Azkaban at the time. Now though, he wished for infamous prison.

The five year old child tilted her head curiously at his sudden stilled form.

"Honestly," she whispered.

An old memory emerged of a teen girl uttering the same expression. The remembered voice actually had emotion though whereas the child before him merely spoke in the same dead tone she had since conversing with Goyle a few minutes ago. If it could be considered conversing at all.

Gregory Goyle shook all over again.

The contrast between the memory and the present was frightening. The dead eyes scanned his face uncaring of his pleading eyes or the defeated tears that fell from them.

He was only nineteen.

"Please Granger, please," he pleaded, knowing that it was useless.

The girl he had gone to school with was gone. In her place was now what she had become, experiment 02.

As if to confirm that, the child shook her head, frizzy brown locks bouncing at the movement, "I am experiment 02. Prepare for extermination Mr. Goyle." Her tone was methodical, and her eyes held a strange gleam that had his fear spiking.

Her knives gleamed and then he screamed.

As each knife dug into his flesh, digging and twisting, he screamed.

"Monster, monster, monster."

The child did not reply this time, only cutting his vocal cords in response before killing him with a knife to the heart.

When the body collapsed and stilled in death, the child advanced forwards, sharp eyes watching for any sudden movement. She methodically retrieved each of her knives from the corpse, placing them back into the straps that clung to her hips, arms and legs. She took no notice to the blood that still stained her weapons, nor did she look down to see the blood soaked into her battle robes that was staining her skin. She continued to reclaim her weapons before flicking her wand over at the body.

"Incendio."

The smell of burnt flesh instantly hit her senses.

"Death eater Gregory Goyle, confirmed dead. Now moving out," the child murmured.

Her headpiece sounded and she stilled, awaiting the order.

"Experiment 02 stand down. Report back to the entrance. Assignment has been completed."

The headpiece went dead.

Hermione Granger allowed a small smile to grace her lips, knowing that her other two companions had successfully eliminated their targets.

With her measured steps, she leisurely made her way back, not needing to pause once as she navigated her way perfectly out of the labyrinth. The small smile that had been playing at her lips grew as she stepped past the maze's entrance. Two similarly small children smiled back at her, both holding out blood soaked hands for her to take. She held out her similarly stained hands and took the two offered ones into her own. As one, all three small children looked upwards to stare into the hooded faces of the two Unspeakables stationed there.

"Assignment completed," all three chorused, all three smiling innocently.

Unspeakable two turned and threw up his lunch. Unspeakable one expertly ignored the newbie and gestured for the three to follow him. All three children straightened immediately at the commanding figure and followed obediently after.

Hermione frowned though, hands tightening on Harry's and Ron's as a ragged whisper escaped from the lips of Unspeakable two.

"Monsters."

She felt both Harry and Ron squeeze back.

…

"Assignment completed."

The words echoed in Scrimgeour's mind.

He felt himself grow even heavier as he realised that he didn't need to throw up.

Not anymore.

Not after viewing it so many times already.

Instead, he sighed heavily before speaking into the device, "Operation successful." He knew he was going to hell for this, "Upgrade of experiments 01 to 03 are confirmed by Minister Scrimgeour to be completed."

He took quick steps to the exit, throwing the headpiece uncaringly to the ground, wanting more than ever to leave the grounds of the training site. He may not be getting sick like the Unspeakable trainee, but he could still use a drink. In his mind, the three children stared back. All three clasping hands, soaked and covered in grime and blood…and the two words that they always uttered together once reunited again. And always with the same smile. The same unseeing smile.

"Assignment completed."

He nodded to the Unspeakable guarding he apparition point, before leaving the site with a _pop._

Making his way back into his office in the Ministry building, Scrimgeour shivered, rubbing his arms in a rare show of vulnerability. He had reports to read, forms to sign, meetings to attend. More so now than ever.

He couldn't put it off any longer. It had already been three years since Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were secretly taken into Ministry custody. Three years where he had delayed having them put directly into the frontlines of the battlefield. But they were complete now. Experiments 01, 02 and 03 were completed, updates and all. He couldn't put it off any longer.

They would put out into the battlefield tomorrow.

He signed, stamped and sealed the order.

It was done.

With a heavy heart, Rufus Scrimgeour reached for his drink, necking it down in one swing. After this war, he promised himself, pouring another shot, he would quit his position of Minister. He wasn't fit to run a society. Not anymore, not with all his sins weighing him down.

"Minister," a tap on the door stopped Scrimgeour from taking his third shot, "Albus Dumbledore is here for his appointment with you," his secretary said hesitantly.

He swallowed the shot before replying, "Let him in."

"Yes sir."

Within moments, the office door opened and in entered the aged Headmaster of Hogwarts. His usual twinkling blue eyes were heavy with controlled anger and anxiety, as they had been for the past three years.

"Dumbledore, I'm glad you could make it," the Minister greeted neutrally. He nodded to his secretary to close the door. She did so meekly, wide eyes flickering from him to the esteemed old wizard before doing just that.

"I admit, I am surprised that you have called on me," the headmaster spoke, tone accusing, "You have ignored all the requests that I've made for such a meeting to take place for the past three years." His sharp blue eyes bore into the Minister's, "Where are my students Rufus?" The minister didn't miss the command in the old headmaster's voice, nor did he miss the dangerous flare of magic that exposed the elder wizard's anger.

He took another glass out from his drawer, pouring both glasses with his alcohol.

"We have much to speak about," he simply said, pushing the glass towards Dumbledore. The headmaster didn't touch it, but Scrimgeour knew that by the end of the meeting, the glass would be empty. And not for the first time either.

He was the Minister. Sometimes things had to happen and sometimes he had to let things happen.

But this time, he regretted allowing it.

In his mind, three pair of eyes stared unseeingly past him.

"Assignment completed," the three voices sang.

Three children.

Children.

His heart grew heavier with every word as he finally revealed the truth to the leader of the Order of the Phoenix.

Oh yes, he was definitely going to hell.

…

Humming a lullaby, Hermione snuggled against the two boys. All three were tucked into a large white bed, all three sleepy and dazed from taking their nightly potions. Being the only one still conscious, she giggled as her vision started to blur and her soft musical notes started to fall flat and quiet. They slurred together until one note was incomprehensible from the last, until at last it was nothing but a single hum that withered into silence.

She reached one small hand out to the charmed ceiling. It was so familiar, this charmed night sky. So familiar and comforting.

Yawning, she finally kept her eyes closed, willingly allowing the potions control over her body.

She was so tired.

As soon as her breathing evened out, a silent alarm went off, alerting one part of the department that the last of the three children had finally succumbed to sleep. And for a few minutes, the room in which the three children slept within was only preoccupied with silence and the soft sounds of life, of breathing.

A cautious hand expertly turned the doorknob without a sound, peering in first before opening the door wider. Two Unspeakables entered the room shortly afterwards. The two hooded forms would guard the only entrance and exit into the room, like they had every other night for the past few years. Unspeakable one simply stared at the large bed where the three small forms huddled together. The small children were breathing softly, but every once in a while words would escape their lips in sleep. Unspeakable one would always look away during those times. Unspeakable two could never look at the bed. For the past few years, Unspeakable two would only stare at the ceiling during guard duty. Unspeakable two could not, would not, look at the three children that had been forged from their mechanisms.

The children slept on, and the two guards continued watch, even as the familiar cries started anew, startling the former silence that had prevailed in the room previously.

It was always the same. First the whimpers, and then a few stifled cries, and finally the worst, the soft comprehendible whispers that seemed magnified in volume within the room.

"Death…blood…cleanse…"

Mechanically spoken.

The Unspeakables shook slightly when the small voice broke at the end.

"Duty…"

"Eliminate…confirm…"

"Completed…unacceptable…kill…"

"Monsters…"

A whimper.

Both Unspeakables jumped as the last word was uttered and the three small forms finally settled back into a dreamless sleep. Unspeakable one had clenched fists, and felt thankful that his hood hid the tears that were now streaming down his face.

Unspeakable two wasn't so successful. She sank down onto the floor, hugging her knees and burying her hooded head there to silently cry. She knew after her shift of night guarding that she had her own children waiting at home for her.

Children.

…

"_This will make us stronger?" the green eyes of the sixteen year old questioned._

_The Unspeakable nodded, "It will increase your chances of success and survival by nearly seventy percent."_

_Hermione pursed her lips, "What were our chances before?"_

_A pause._

"_Rather low," the hooded man finally said._

"_When do we have to decide by?" the redhead asked, taking his girlfriend's small hand into his own larger one. Intense blue eyes bore past the shadows of the hood to stare into the Unspeakable's eyes._

"_The sooner, the better."_

_The boy-who-lived nodded when his other two friends didn't reply._

"_Will the three of us stay together?" _

_Ron jumped at this, "Ya, cause if you think for one minute that you can separate the three of us, you've got another thing coming!" The Unspeakable knew the teen was trying to be intimidating with his threat, but couldn't really register it because he now knew their final decision._

"_You agree?" he asked, feeling odd when both relief and defeat rushed through him._

_The muggleborn struggled to take a deep breathe. "The three of us stay together," she said with finality, "we'll survive this war."_

_All three teens nodded, taking each other's hands before looking at the silent Unspeakable._

"_We accept," Harry said, eyes flaring with determination._

_Ron nodded, blue eyes intense, "For our families, for our friends."_

"_For our future, for our world, we'll win this war." Hermione let her tears fall, squeezing the hands that held her own protectively. "We'll do what we have to, what we can."_

_The Unspeakable didn't know what to say. He turned away, not being able to meet their eyes any longer._

"_Very well," he wet his suddenly dry lips, "training will commence immediately, and the procedures will follow shortly after completion of the required preparation." He swallowed. He had had to force those last words out. _

_He had been working as an Unspeakable for many years now. He knew what they had to do; he knew what was required of him. This would insure survival, it would ensure victory. It was the right thing…the only thing that they could do…so why was his heart sinking with every step he took away from the three…why was his heart protesting so vehemently at something that was the logical decision?_

_Behind him, the three teens didn't say a word._

…

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,  
How I wonder how far we'll fall…

…


	3. Holding It Together

**Summary**: Harry's life has been a whirlpool of despair - his mother died when he was seven, his father is still ignorant of his existence, and after the disaster that happened with the Dursleys, Harry is left fighting with social workers over his future. Determined to make family out of James Potter, Harry starts his hunt for the dad he has never met before. Along the way he forgets the meaning of family, and as he struggles to redefine it, he finds himself unexpectedly being guided by a rebellious runaway wizard. Harry is surprised by how much he learns about family from a man who willingly left his own.

**Pairings**: James/Lily, Harry/Undetermined Male

**Warnings**: Angst, language, violence, male/male relationship

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all copyrighted material that fall under this category belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Author Note**: Apologies for any grammatical errors.

...

**Holding It Together**  
Prologue: Five Hated Words

...

There's a moment in everyone's life when everything suddenly becomes clear. It's when all those missing pieces are found, and suddenly the puzzle isn't really a puzzle anymore, but a complete and full picture. The feeling doesn't last long, but it's memorable, and after all those puzzle pieces come together, that perfect image will never leave. On the first of September of his eleventh year, James Potter had one of those moments. He had a glimpse of that perfect picture, a full colour image of Lily Evans.

Since that train ride, he had never been able to look at another girl or woman the way he saw Lily.

The first time he had seen the muggleborn witch, James swore it was love at first sight. When the train had suddenly lurched, James who had been on his way back from the toilets had fallen into her compartment. When he had opened his eyes, all he had seen were green, green eyes and gorgeous red hair. Her eyes had glittered during that moment, cheeks slightly flushed from laughter but then James' vision had been eclipsed of everything but the startlingly beautiful smile Lily gave him as she helped him back up. That smile, the Potter heir had decided, had been the clincher, the last piece to the puzzle.

They had had their ups and downs since that day, and it wasn't until another five to six years that the muggleborn finally had that same moment that James had back when he was eleven. After that, things were looking up, the world didn't look so dark even though there was a war, even if his grandparents didn't approve of Lily, even if the world was against them, James didn't care. He had Lily, and for James Potter, that was all that mattered.

Everything was perfect. Until one day, it just wasn't.

He had had Lily for one full year, one blessed year where Hogwarts was their world, where time moved with all those stolen kisses, those sidelong glances and those beautiful smiles that James elated over that were reserved just for him. But then summer separated during their transition between their sixth and their seventh year, and things happened. Lily's family was attacked, her parents killed, leaving Lily and her older sister Petunia orphans. Lily became fragile, porcelain like her doll-like appearance, and it was all James could do as he wrapped her around him, not to break anymore than she already was.

"Lily?"

A tear streaked face looked up, and James stepped closer, seeing beyond those sorrow-flushed cheeks to the pale porcelain, the puffy eyes to the gorgeous green. He wrapped his arms around her, simply just being there, "Everything's going to be alright. I love you."

She had cried harder, but silently, holding onto him. He didn't care that his tailored school robes were being soaked, because it was Lily, and Lily needed this, needed him.

It had been some hours past midnight, the Gryffindor common room had been blanketed in darkness with the only light source coming from the flickering flames of the fire. The two had just sat slumped there with both their arms wrapped around each other tightly, each scared and not wanting to let go.

"I love you," he had repeated, over and over. He had rocked her as though she were an enfant, and had held her as though she were as fragile as glass and as tightly as though she were about to slip through his fingers.

It had been a turbulent time, and after some months, it had almost seemed like Lily was getting back onto her feet again. Almost, yet James could still see that only half her smiles were sincere, the other half a façade.

And then, James' parents had been attacked by Death Eaters, and suddenly he was left just as parentless and lost as well.

After that, the cracks in their relationship had started to show themselves, and the 'they' they had once been had started to fall apart.

After his parents' murders, James' grandparents had pounced on their grandson, the sole heir to the Potter line. Suddenly, Lily, seventh year NEWT classes and exams weren't the only things preoccupying his mind anymore. Family meetings occurred weekly, sometimes daily, and suddenly James had paperwork from his father's investments and businesses to look after. More often than not, James wouldn't be in school for days or weeks on end because of his new responsibilities as family head.

His time with Lily grew shorter and shorter.

After arranging and seeing to his parents' funeral, whenever he saw the redhead, he had remembered all those months ago back in the dark confines of the Gryffindor common room. He could only see Lily's tear streaked face and her eyes screaming of grief and pain. It was harder and harder to see that beautiful smile that he remembered from back when he was eleven. All he could see at that time were those tears, that sorrow and that grief. And when he saw her, he remembered his own pain at losing his parents. And it hurt, it hurt to see her, to be around her. Because it wasn't alright anymore, things were wrong, and being with Lily no longer helped with the pain. It only reminded him more and more of what he had lost, of how fragile the both of them had become. And James couldn't be fragile, couldn't be the man that she had fallen in love with, he couldn't, not when he was the last Potter, not when he was overseeing his family's finances, investments and properties.

James just couldn't _be_ anymore. Lily made him feel, and during that turbulent time, he couldn't afford to give into his feelings, into his grief. He had needed to be strong.

"James?"

She touched his shoulder gently, the gesture familiar and intimate in the natural contact.

He stiffened under her hand, but didn't turn to face her. Instead, he concentrated on placing his signature clearly on the contract, spelling the ink dry and pulling another piece of paperwork from the stack on his desk towards him.

"I'm busy Lily," he stated without feeling.

He didn't look at her, didn't need to when he could already see in his mind's eye those green eyes filling up with hurt and concern. As though reaffirming this, the hand on his shoulder released its grip, and it wasn't until she had moved away that James had realised how warm her presence was. He ignored the urge to pull her close to him, signing another document and pulling another one towards him.

"James, maybe you should take a break," her voice was sad and he could felt the burn of her eyes on his slumped form as he signed paper after paper.

"Can't," he had replied without emotion, "My grandparents only gave me until seven tomorrow morning to finish these."

"It's two in the morning," Lily whispered stonily, "You've been working since you last class finished."

He shrugged, pulling another piece of parchment towards him. He was so tired, but he needed to finish these. "Even more reason to continue working, I've only got five more hours." He wanted nothing more than to sink back into bed, really he did, but he had more to think about than his own comfort now.

"James," Lily snapped, one hand slamming onto the table, momentarily startling him, "Listen to me, take a break."

"No," he snapped angrily, fixing a glare at her. "You don't understand. I _need_ to get these papers done. Just…just leave me alone Lily."

She opened her mouth, most likely to angrily retort, but James' cut her off, snapping angrily at the redhead, "Look Lily, I can't do this right now."

He was breathing heavily, he was so utterly exhausted and he was sure he looked like he felt, like shit. Having caught a glimpse of himself through a reflection off the window earlier, he knew his hair, already a mess was beyond help now, the bags under his eyes now looked permanent and his skin was definitely as clammy as it looked.

Lily simply stared at him silently for a moment. Her bottom lip trembled with repressed emotion, her eyes searching his almost desperately. Years later, James could recognize that this was the moment that things had completely become irreparable, that Lily had made that decision. Whatever it was that Lily was looking for, she didn't find it in his sleep-deprived face, his sombre eyes and changed air, and within a second she had turned her back to him.

"Good-night James," there was a finality in her tone. It was bereft of the anger that she had been filled with just moments earlier. It was hollow, resolute and _sad._

She walked away, and he couldn't recognize it then, but there had been something wrong with Lily's farewell. There were so many things left unsaid, but James hadn't been bothered to seek out his answers as the months approaching NEWTS and leaving Hogwarts drew nearer. The last Potter threw himself into his work, into his responsibilities. And the redhead that had once been his entire world grew steadily more distant as time flew by.

Then their year left Hogwarts and Lily moved on.

He loved Lily, loved her so much. But that love wasn't enough anymore, it wasn't something that was pushing him up, it had only pushed him back down. He had spent many a private moment alone with silent tears falling, the memory of that eleven year old and the dazzling smile that had stunned him speechless. He loved her, and he knew she loved him, sometimes it was enough, and sometimes it just wasn't. Sometimes it was better to let go, to not fight for it, and to just let the love of your life just slip through your fingers…at least that's what James was trying to convince himself of. And some nights, when he was so tired from company meetings and from helping rebuild the wizarding world after Voldemort's defeat by the one-year-old Neville Longbottom, he almost believed it. Almost.

…

"Miss Evans, we need to release that stasis spell from your womb by the next weekend. The spell's losing it's effectiveness, have you decided on whether or not you'd like to keep the baby or not?"

"I…I…" Lily stuttered, not knowing how to respond. Did she wasn't to keep this baby? James' baby? The man she had loved so long ago was now one of the richest in the world, and more than once she had seen his face plastered on the business and lifestyles magazines of the newsstands. He had changed, but Lily still remembered the man, or the boy that she had fallen in love with. She remembered those mischievous grins, those loving hazel eyes and that wild bed-hair that was as out of control as the man himself.

"Yes, I'm keeping my baby," Lily stated firmly, smiling despite the falling tears. In her mind's eye, she saw that man smiling lovingly at her, and if she really concentrated, she could still feel that warmth, that security that she had always associated with James' arms wrapped around her.

The nurse smiled weakly, and Lily ignored the pity that she saw in the woman's eyes as she took a deep breath, "You can release the stasis spell now, we don't have to wait until the next weekend, now is fine."

"Are you sure? You still have some time to think about this," the nurse started but stopped in surprise as Lily levelled a steady stare at her.

"I'm sure," the redhead said, a beautiful smile aimed at her still flat stomach. She put one hand where one day she would feel her baby kicking, "I've had nearly two years to think about it, I'm sure."

The nurse watched her, blinking in slight surprise at the sure smile and the light in the redhead's eyes, and finally gave the pregnant woman a smile without pity, just a smile to share in the soon-to-be-mother's joy. "Alright then Miss Evans, I'll just call in your Healer, and we'll remove that stasis spell."

Before the nurse left, she squeezed Lily's shoulder in comfort, "Congratulations."

Left alone, Lily tried to still the steady stream of tears that continued to fall despite her best efforts. She was going to have a baby, she was going to be a mother. She didn't know whether or not to laugh or to give into her tears. A baby, the idea was sinking in, and James grinning face reappeared in her memory.

Lily gave in and broke down.

She loved James, she loved him so much. It had been years now, she should've moved on, should've let go. But now she was having the man's baby, was going to always have a part of him with her. She loved James Potter, should have let the man go, but she just couldn't.

Taking a deep breath, and smiling up at the Healer who was fixing her with a worried face, Lily greeted the man and held on the idea of her baby, her child. The evidence that what Lily and James once had had been real, the proof of their love, of her love for the man that was now out of her reach.

…

Harry held his teddy tightly as the social worker led him from the car to the doorway where his Aunt Petunia's family were standing. Even though the walk was less than a minute, time felt stretched to the child as he gazed up at those pinched up expressions of his new family.

Miss Anderson, the social worker in charge of his case, greeted the family happily and they returned her greetings with stiff smiles, their eyes flickering every few seconds to his small form in suspicion and distrust. Either Miss Anderson hadn't noticed or she was simply ignoring it.

Harry clutched his teddy closer when who he assumed was his cousin eyed the last present his mother had given him in greed. Had the seven year old known that in a few short hours, that the teddy would be ripped in shreds from Dudley's anger at Harry's refusal to give up the toy, Harry would've just handed the stuffy over now. At least then, the soft bear would've still been whole.

"You'll be given a list every morning of chores that need to be done," his Aunt had primly informed him the minute Miss Anderson had left. She had eyed Harry in open distaste, sneering when his eyes met hers, "Should you not complete the list then you won't be getting any dinner. Is this understood boy?"

"Yes Aunt Petunia," he answered meekly.

She sniffed, leaving the living room momentarily before returning with a washcloth and a spray bottle for window washing. "You'll start right a way of course."

His Uncle Vernon had nodded in agreement, "Got to earn your keep boy."

Harry had stood there, eyes wide as he was roughly handed the cloth and bottle. His Aunt eyed him impatiently, "Get started!"

He startled, and shaking, moved to the windows that he saw in the room.

Aunt Petunia sniffed, "What a stupid child."

"Unlike our Dudders," Uncle Vernon beamed with pride at his large son.

Harry's heart sank, not liking the glares he could feel burning through the shirt on his back.

Not for the first time, he wished his mother hadn't died and left him alone here.

...

On some days Harry would imagine his life a fairy tale because then, everything seemed less real. Plus, on the upside, he could justify having the hope that he would one day have a happy ending. And then, there were those days where he hadn't ever believed in the words, 'happily ever after.' Because when it seemed like the whole world was against you, hope was bleak and was painful to acknowledge.

"Freak!" Dudley laughed hysterically as he pushed his cousin down into the mud. Around Harry's pudgy cousin, the gang of bullies joined in and laughed.

Harry fought against his tears, knowing that they only fuelled his ten-year-old tormentors more. "Stop it," he said, trying to get up, only to fall again when Dudley pushed him back down.

"Stop it," Piers Polkiss imitated in a whiny voice. Another burst of laughter erupted from the group of boys.

Harry shook, watching as the boys started to surround him in a circle. He hated being caught in Harry-hunting.

"My dad says you're a bastard cause you haven't got a dad," a bulky boy sneered.

Harry's face flamed, "I have a dad." He knew he had a father, his mother had said so. "My mommy told me," he screamed.

Dudley kicked his middle, and Harry's breath caught at the sudden impact and flash of pain. The blond Dursley laughed, "Your mommy's dead and a liar, my mum said so."

"Shut up," Harry screamed, trying to tackle his cousin. "Aunt Petunia's a liar, _a liar._" The green-eyed boy was hysterical, drowning in sorrow and righteous anger on his deceased mother's behalf.

But he couldn't because as always, those boys shielded his cousin and soon Harry was curled up in a fetal position, arms braced above his head as kicks and punches rained down on him. Harry hated primary school.

"What are you all think you're doing?" the playground supervisor screeched. Immediately the boys scampered away from Harry's bruised and bleeding form. They looked up in horror and surprise at the appearance of the woman, this being the first time that any adult had come across their Harry-hunting.

"Oh God," the woman gasped, eyes wide in horror at Harry's little bleeding body. "What have you boys done?"

"He was throwing rocks at us," Dudley whined. Piers was nodding rapidly and a second later, the other boys were too.

The supervisor glared at Dudley and the blond flinched, "Is that a reason to beat your friend to death?"

"He's not our friend, he's a freak," one of the boys quipped.

"I see," the woman said slowly, disbelief in her voice. "I'm sure you can explain all of this to the principle. His office, _now_."

The boys' mouths dropped.

Harry's heart started to beat again, this was a first. The playground supervisor was new, and it seemed, was actually doing her rounds. Usually, Dudley and his gang went at him behind a building, away from the eyes of any adult, but today was the woman's first day on the job, and as it seemed, Dudley and his gang had been caught.

"He was throwing rocks at us," Dudley tried again, eyes wide.

The woman ignored him, dialling on her handheld phone. "I need an ambulance called right away. We need the rest of the children to be called in." The woman paused, obviously listening to whatever was being said over her phone, her eyes stonily starting at the group of fidgeting boys.

Piers swallowed and hurriedly pointed at Dudley, "It was his fault. It was him!"

"It was not!" Dudley screeched, tackling the rat-faced boy down into the ground.

They were pulled apart by a teacher who had just arrived to help. The panting man, Harry's teacher he recognized, was horrified when his eyes saw Harry's wide eyes and his bloody body that was still curled up in mud. His hold on Dudley's and Piers' shirts tightened. He nodded to the playground supervisor, "The ambulance has been called, and Principal Roberts is on his way."

The man's voice was wavering, Harry noticed, trying to sit up. A hand carefully touched him and Harry flinched violently back, freezing up as the supervisor swallowed anxiously.

"Hey," she said softly, "I'm Mrs. Walker, everything's going to be alright."

Harry had heard those words before. His mother had said the same thing while she was sick, repeating it like a mantra to him during all hours of the day and night. His social worker had also said the same, giving him fake smiles as she showed him pictures of his 'new loving family' and dropping him off within a week of his mom's passing on the Dursley's doorsteps. Those five words, 'everything's going to be alright,' were a lie. A lie that was told with a smile. A lie that Harry didn't believe, not anymore.

"I want…my mom," Harry whispered, eyes closed.

"Of course, of course," Mrs. Walker easily agreed, "We'll call her right away."

Mr. Lawson chocked, and a whispering session started between himself and Mrs. Walker. The new playground supervisor's eyes were wide in regret when she look at him next. "Oh, I'm so sorry child," she whispered.

"You're mom's dead, dead, dead, dead," Dudley screamed, stomping his foot on the ground and struggling to try to get out of Mr. Lawson's hold.

"That is enough, Mr. Dursley," a voice snapped coldly. The principal had arrived.

But the words that Dudley had screamed out in spite still echoed in Harry's mind. His mother was dead.

The next few hours were a blur to Harry as he was picked up by the ambulance, taken to the hospital and then treated by a doctor whose name the child hadn't cared to remember. The parents of the bullies were called, and that was all Harry knew was happening. When he opened his eyes, he met the face of a woman he hadn't seen for over three years, Miss Anderson.

"Well," the woman said primly, her eyes taking in his injuries with guilt, "It seems fate has brought us together again yes?"

Harry didn't answer her.

"Well," Miss Anderson fidgeted nervously, "You'll be removed from your relatives' custody and then we'll see if we can put you into another family."

"No," he said, startling the woman with his first word to her.

"No?" her eyes behind her large glasses were wide in astonishment.

"I don't want another family," Harry screamed at her, letting his tears fall. "I don't want another family!"

She swallowed, her eyes flickering towards the still closed door. She held out her hands out to Harry, a gesture that was meant to calm the child knew, but Harry was angry. Miss Anderson rushed, "Alright, alright, it's alright."

He felt immense dislike for the woman.

"How about you get better first, and then we'll talk yes?" Miss Anderson smiled, rising from her seat.

"No," Harry screamed, his angry eyes so focused on the suddenly skittish social worker that he almost missed the door opening and a doctor bustling in. "I don't want to, you can't make me. No, no, no!"

"Miss Anderson, I'd like to ask that you wait outside please," the middle-aged doctor commanded, leaving no room for argument as he gestured to the door upon reaching Harry's bedside. A nurse shot the social worker a look that Harry recognized from his Aunt's own usual looks towards his person.

"Oh, of course," the social worker said stiffly, heading out.

"I don't want another family," Harry screamed after her.

And then, he felt a prick on his arm, and looked up in horror to see the nurse eying him sadly, holding an empty syringe.

"Everything's going to be alright," the doctor said soothingly, stroking Harry's brow.

Harry, in his growing disorientation glared at the man. "No," he said weakly, "no."

The last thought he had before losing consciousness was of his mother. She was cuddling him, kissing his forehead lovingly as she pointed out a man in a moving photo. _That's your dad, James Potter._

Harrison James Evans knew that everything wasn't alright. At ten, nearing eleven, he knew his life was a mess, he knew. But he knew that he didn't need a new family, he already had one. He just needed to find James Potter, he just needed to find his dad. He already had family, Harry already had a dad.

Unknowingly to Harry, the nurse had wiped away the tears that had fallen from his sleeping face.

...


	4. Hitting All The Right Notes

**Summary**: Growing up/fluff fic. Harry packs up and leaves the world and society that James Potter has raised him in. Sick and tired of what his fame brings in the wizarding world, he looks forward to spending time with his mom in the muggle world. But upon tagging along with her on one of her jobs, he meets another man that sweeps him off his feet and takes him away from all the chaos and turmoil that comes along with Harry's name. Never letting go of the other's hand, Harry is swept into the man's life, finding himself truly living as he allows himself to freefall into the unknown.

**Pairings**: OC male/Harry, Draco/Hermione

**Warnings**: Language, male/male pairing.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all copyrighted material that fall under this category belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Author Note**: Apologies for any grammatical errors.

..

**Hitting All The Right Notes**  
Chapter One

..

"So you're going off to live with your mom?"

"I've had enough of dad's life," Harry snarled, throwing clothes haphazardly into a black duffle bag.

Hermione winced at her best friend's tone, but didn't reprimand him. She started to simply fold his hastily thrown clothes and pack them neatly into the bag, rearranging things in the bottomless bag for her distressed friend.

Harry collapsed next to her, sagging next to her. He brought his jean clad knees up to his chest, hiding his face as he muttered, "Why can't my dad understand."

The witch wrapped an arm around his shoulders in comfort, her brown eyes soothing, "Oh Harry, you're dad's just being stupid. He'll come around."

Harry snorted, "He's being a git."

Hermione giggled, bringing the other seventeen year old teen in for a friendly hug.

He sighed, smiling in thanks when his emerald eyes caught sight of his neatly packed bag.

"So does your mom know? Does your _dad_ know?" Hermione raised an elegant brow, poking renowned defeater of Voldemort.

"Yeah, positive on both accounts; there was a bit of a fuss, dad of course," Harry scowled, "Mom was ecstatic about it though." His eyes lowered in guilt, "I haven't seen her much since I started Hogwarts years ago."

"It's an opportunity for you two to catch up then," the witch smiled soothingly. Her eyes glittered, "You've finished your NEWTS early, so your magical education is out of the way," she hugged her friend, "Live your life the way you want to Harry, don't let anyone stop you. You, more than anyone else I know deserves that."

Harry laughed, "And people wonder why I keep you around."

She hit his shoulder is mock indignation, raising her nose as if to snub him. He chuckled at the familiar action, reminded all too much of his friend's blond pureblood boyfriend.

"I'm going to miss you this year Harry," she sighed.

He grinned, knowing that the only reason Hermione hadn't already graduated along with him was for her boyfriend. Of course, when questioned, the witch would simply flush and reply that she only wanted continued use of Hogwarts library. The best magical school in Britain did have quite the collection of texts, ranging from a variety of subjects, most of which weren't taught at the school. Harry of course didn't counter the fact that the headmaster wouldn't have stopped her from accessing it even after graduation. Hermione was known as the brightest witch of their generation, no one would've had the heart to separate her from her books.

"I'll visit in Hogsmeade, and we'll see each other during Yule," Harry chuckled. He closed his eyes, lips curling in a whimsical smile, "I'll just be taking a break this year, helping mom with her work in muggleborn integration."

Hermione clapped her hands, eyes shining with academic delight, "That's right. Oh Harry, that's such a great work opportunity for you. It'll go great on your resume." She gave him a sly look, "Though, considering your status, I seriously doubt you'd have trouble finding any kind of work."

Harry groaned as his friend laughed out loud. His fame for a feat he hardly remembered, at the age of one no less, was one of the many factors pushing him to leave the magical community for a while. Everywhere he went, gossip, media, tabloids and mobs followed. It was exhausting, now more so now that he wasn't a sheltered child anymore, protected and guarded by aurors. He had completed his magical education, the left over Death Eaters had been rounded up years ago, and now he was an adult. His life was his own to claim.

He frowned, a familiar trail of thought trailing to the forefront of his mind. He had often wondered if it had been the reason why his parents had divorced when he was seven. His fame had often caused problems for both his parents whenever they stepped out of the house; they were crowded when they stepped out, and mobbed if he was with them.

They divorce had been messy. His parents' marriage had already been strained, and when he was at the age of six, his home had perpetually become the screaming shack. Often back then, Sirius or Remus would pick him up during the day, and sometimes he wouldn't return until late the next day. Both his parents had fought for his custody, and Harry hadn't wanted to choose between either one. Remus had suggested joint custody, but at the time, James and Lily were both spitting fire at each other. In the end, James won with Lily angrily blaming biased purebloods. The pureblood solicitor that James had hired had leaned heavily on Harry's status in the magical community, pointing out that the Potter history, lineage, traditions and heritage was a right that Harry had, one that James was a part of and would never be removed from. Blood in the wizarding world, was after all, a big thing.

Lily still wasn't speaking to James after all these years, even after the wizard had given in a few months later, allowing Harry and Lily to see each other. Of course, the constant crying and screams of his only son for his mother had been a big deciding factor.

"You'll write of course," Hermione muttered in the quiet of the room.

"Course," he grinned. And ignoring Hermione's yelp of surprise, he flopped himself along with the witch down onto the bed to stare up at his ceiling. "We should get back to the ball soon," Harry grimaced, "But you're sticking close to me, I don't care what Draco says. I need you more. I am not being bloody engaged at seventeen."

"Your dad is really serious about this then?" she asked, accepting Harry hand helping her up. He gave him a sympathetic look as they left the room, Harry steaming again if his angry face was anything to go by. She squeezed his hand, "Well, he's just going to have to accept that you're not ready to settle down. He's being really hypocritical, since when was he into pureblood traditions?"

"Since it won him me," Harry muttered darkly. They made their way downstairs, and already through the crowd of dancing guests, Harry could spot the familiar mop of Malfoy-blond making his way over. "Since then, he's been concentrating on the old pureblood traditions," the emerald eyed boy scowled, "Wouldn't look good if he won me with that kind of reasoning and acted the complete opposite in raising me right?"

"Appearances are everything in pureblood society," Draco agreed, coming to their side. He kissed Hermione's cheek and the brunette smiled, taking her boyfriend's hand into her own. Draco smiled softly at her, before turning back to Harry, grey eyes concerned, "You alright Harry?"

"Yeah," he sighed heavily, "Just can't wait for this bloody ball to be over." Scanning the crowd of people, Harry's eyes suddenly widened, and he grabbed both Hermione and Draco closer to him. Both his friends gave startled cries, and he eyed the crowd hissing, "The bloody Patil twins."

"Harry," twin voices chorused on cue. Both twins were in matching outfits of glaring hot pink and orange robes, batting eyelashes at him winningly, "Happy Birthday." They made a move to touch him, and Harry moved away quickly, narrowing his eyes at their attempt to trap him.

"Not interested," he said coldly, leading a glaring Hermione and sneering Draco away from the crowd. "I can't take much more of this fucked up birthday," Harry scowled, "Dad just wants a marriage contract. They're the third set of twins I've had come up to me tonight."

Draco's brow rose, his lips twitching, "Third?"

Hermione hid her smile as Harry pouted, "Fred and George Weasley, Jacob and Felix Crow, and now Parvati and Padma Patil."

"Yes, you are a bastard to be pitied aren't you," the blond deadpanned.

Hermione punched his arm, giving him a pointed look. Draco shrugged sheepishly, giving Harry a smile letting his friend know that it was all in good fun. The boy-hero simply sighed, grabbing a glass of wine from the tray of a passing caterer. Draco did the same while Hermione simply shook her head when the caterer moved his tray closer to her.

The three moved outside to the balcony, Harry shutting the doors firmly behind him. Hopefully it would dissuade some of his suitors from pursuing him.

"Draco, how do you manage it?" the young celebrity groaned, leaning heavily onto the railing.

The blond gave the teen a sympathetic smile, "Helps when you have a mate that you love." Hermione beamed at him. He gave her a one armed hug as all three leaned over the railing to look up at the star littered skies or at the blossoming gardens below. "Course, it helps that she'll probably agree to marry me if I propose anytime now," Draco grinned dodging a punch Hermione threw.

She laughed, not saying anything, but by the colour that adorned her cheeks, both Harry and Draco knew that she wasn't disagreeing with the pureblood's proclamation. Draco smiled widely, kissing her forehead lovingly. Harry sighed wistfully, envious of the relationship his two friends shared.

"Mother and Father adore Hermione," Draco murmured, taking his girlfriend's hand again, "They don't worship pureblood ideals. They follow them because they are a part of our family heritage, a heritage that we're proud of, but even they understand that not all traditions can be followed so completely." He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Those traditions came about during a time and age where society and people were different. But this is the present, we've progressed, how can we ever move forwards if we're continuing to live in the past? Traditions have to adapt. My parents have accepted this, your dad will understand soon."

"I hope that 'soon' comes along fast," Harry muttered, "Hopefully it'll hit him on its way to his brain."

All three shared a laugh, staying out in the balcony for the rest of the ball. Harry was thankful that no one else had decided to come out. The July night air was still warm as Harry, Hermione and Draco talked. Harry treasured the time he privately had with the two, knowing that they too, needed the privacy. All three were public figures, Harry because of his celebrity status as Voldemort destroyer, Draco because he was a Malfoy, and Hermione because she was Harry's best friend, Draco's girlfriend, and because of her contributions towards the higher academics. The magical universities were all clawing at each other to get a hold of the witch after Hogwarts.

The next day, a nervous Harry with his duffle bag in one hand rang the doorbell of his mom's house. The sound of hurried footsteps came before the door was wrenched open and Harry was pulled into a tight hug. Red hair was everywhere, and Harry wrapped his arms around his mom, dropping the duffel back down onto the steps. It had been nearly a year since he had seen her.

She stepped back, identical green eyes scanning him with a motherly smile, "Oh, you've grown so much this year honey." She touched his cheek, her eyes dancing, "I'm so happy you decided to spend the year with me, I've missed you." She picked up his bag despite his protests, waving them off with laugh as she ushered him in.

Lily Evans lived in the muggle world, flooing to and from her office in the Ministry with ease. The house was homey, and Harry always felt comfortable in his mother's home where there were no talking portraits snapping at you. There was actually some privacy and normalcy here. It was a two story home, a large kitchen that Harry and Lily both used, a living room equipped with a full entertainment system, a work out room, a wonderful garden that Lily tended to in her backyard, three bedrooms upstairs, three washrooms within the house and a two-car garage. It wasn't the Potter manor, but Harry was more than happy with it. Lily too was more than happy.

She led Harry up to his usual room up the stairs, watching him as he spun around with a laugh before flopping gracefully onto his bed with a blissful sigh. "I've missed this." Lily sat down next to him, stroking his hair.

"I haven't changed a thing since your last visit," she said, her eyes stopping on a poster of Victor Krum. Luckily, it wasn't moving and the Quidditch star's face was all that was seen, otherwise any of her magic-unaware muggle friends would question it should they happen to wonder into her son's room. Lily smiled slyly at her son, teasing him with her question, "Do you still have a crush on him?"

Harry laughed in embarrassment, one hand running through his hair in habit, "No, no." It was always so easy talking to his mom; he really wondered now why he hadn't thought of living with her sooner.

She smiled, "Anyone new then?"

He shrugged, "Not really. Since dad is clearly off his rocker right now, all the girls that come on to me are only interested in getting knocked up and thus trapping me into tying the knot with them. The guys, without the knocked up part, are similarly trying to get into my pants and get the ring." Harry sighed sadly, his voice quiet and pained, "I don't want to be used as a social ladder."

"Your dad's an idiot," Lily scowled, still stroking Harry's cat-black hair. Her green eyes were angry and flashing in Harry's defence, and Harry felt himself warm at the thought. It was nice, knowing that his mom was on his side. She didn't really quite like pureblood tradition much.

"Hermione says the same, Draco won't say it outright but I know he agrees too," Harry quipped with a grin.

Lily laughed, "Well, it's good to hear that they're on your side. And of course you know that I am too." She stood up stretching, "Well sweetie, I'll start on some lunch." She kissed his cheek in motherly affection, messing up his hair with a light laugh, "I'll leave you to unpack in private. I'll be downstairs if you need me ok?"

"Yeah, thanks mom," Harry said with a smile as his mom closed the door behind him.

He spun in his room, taking in the decorations that had been up the entire time he had been away. His unmoving posters of Quidditch stars still hung about. He had had them put up during his last summer with his mom back when he was fourteen. It really had been a while, though now that he thought of it, carefully taking down the posters; it was a good opportunity to redecorate. At his mom's house, he wasn't Harry Potter the boy-who-lived; he was simply just Harry, Lily's only child and son.

Taking in his now plain painted blue walls, Harry sighed. It was great to have a new start. He moved to his bookshelf, fingering the texts of classic literature that he hadn't read in years. Smiling, he picked up a book of poetry, Shakespeare, moving back onto his bed and flipping through the pages with a sad smile. The words sang out to him and whimsically, he was reminded of Draco and Hermione. He wished that he could have something that special, with someone that didn't want his name but just him.

Harry sat the book down on his bedside table, promising himself to read some before bed as he unzipped his duffle bag. Unpacking was nostalgic as he found himself reacquainting with his second bedroom. He exchanged his fourteen-year-old's clothes with a laugh for his new ones within his dresser, piling the old ones onto his bed. He made a mental note to ask his mom if there was any place he could donate them too. Back in the wizarding world, he hadn't had much use for muggle clothes. It was just only recently, a year ago, that he had started to wear them again. Of course, the fact that he had been ogling a muggle boy within the department store while shopping with Hermione that summer had helped.

He gave a wistful sigh, placing a framed unmoving photo of himself, Hermione and Draco on his bedside table. It was a snapshot from the day they had spent together in the muggle world. All three were laughing and hugging as they posed for the picture. The only pureblood in the frame was mask-free, his happiness and emotions all for show in that one smile. His arm was around his girlfriend's waist and one arm was draped around Harry's shoulders. All three were dressed in muggle clothes, a fact that had Harry and Hermione amused throughout the entire day as Draco took it all in stride, strutting as though a model for his girlfriend's pleasure.

She called him a peacock. Harry had agreed, and Draco had scoffed, not doing a very good job of hiding his smile.

As Harry finished unpacking the last of his things, he opened the window, letting the summer air in. If the sunshine was anything to go by, today was going to be a wonderful summer day. Harry happily made his way downstairs and to the kitchen.

The sound of the radio that his mother kept on while in the kitchen had an up-beat song playing that Harry could hear his mom singing to. When he entered the kitchen, Lily looked up with a smile as she stirred something at the stove, "Hey sweetie, already done unpacking?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, coming to peer curiously over his shoulder in curiousity, "Rice pudding?"

"Comfort food," Lily smiled softly, "Thought maybe we'd have a movie night tonight and gorge ourselves with ice-cream, pizza, soda, and of course, rice pudding."

Harry laughed, "Sounds like a plan."

Sitting down at the table, he watched as his mother flipped the grill cheesed sandwiches that she had on another pan, humming to a tune that was playing on the radio. Her red hair was tied loosely behind her, a few tendrils falling to frame her delicate fair face. A green apron was tied over her pyjamas. Harry glanced at the hanging clock against a nearby wall and grinned reading the time indicating it was noon. His mother was never one to change out of her pyjamas unless she was going out or had company over.

"Do you have any work today mom?" he asked, setting the table as the woman put the pudding into the oven.

"Yes," she said, closing the oven door and taking the pan of grill cheese sandwiches off the heat. She glanced at the clock, "Not until two though." The plated the sandwiches, and gave Harry a thankful smile as he took them without a word to the table while she went to the fridge to get orange juice and fruit salad. Harry felt another wave of nostalgia hit him when everything was set and they were eating. Lunch at his mom's hadn't changed and the meal constantly reminded him of those days when he was tucked next to his mom, eating as she laughed and used a napkin to wipe away the crumbs that stuck to his face.

"I'll be visiting a muggleborn witch's family to answer some questions today," Lily said after sipping some of her juice, "Her parents have some questions about career opportunities for their daughter, and I'm sure Allison has some questions of her own."

"Allison…does she go to Hogwarts?" Harry asked, trying to remember if there was a student at the famous school with the name.

Lily shook her head, "No, her family thought that it would be best for her to attend Helios' Academy. Their rounded education system covering both magical and muggle subjects appealed more them than Hogwarts' purely magical one." She hummed in thought, "I wouldn't disagree with them. Truth be told, I would have stuck you in there had I had a say in matters." She gave him a teasing smile and he returned it, not voicing what they both knew. He would have loved to have gone there.

James would never have it though. Attending Hogwarts after all, was a family tradition.

"Would you like to come with me?" Lily asked, green eyes excited, "I'm sure as a graduated student; you can help with answering some of their questions and ease their anxieties."

Harry chuckled, giving his mom a wry look, "More like scare them out of letting their daughter learn magic." She laughed along, but her eyes were still pleading with him. He shook his head, laughing at his mom's kicked puppy face, knowing that he had gotten the same face from her, "Okay, okay."

"Great!" the redhead chirped cheerfully. "Oh Harry," she smiled, "I'm really happy you're here."

"Me too mom," he gave her a soft smile.

For the rest of their lunch time together, they continued to talk, both laughing and smiling as they caught up on each other's lives. Harry felt tension leave him, not feeling any of the pressures he usually felt when conversing with his other parental. Lily was very easy-going and very down-to-earth, traits that Hermione had told him that she saw that he shared with his mom. And really, Lily was wonderful, her enthusiasm for her passions, and her empathy were all great traits that Harry valued in his mother. She was always compliant in granting hugs and there to listen when he needed to be heard and not reprimanded.

Soon after, Lily had to get up, remove the pudding from the oven, shower and get ready for the appointment to the family Harry now as the Sinclairs. His mom had hurriedly thanked him for his offer of doing dishes, and he rolled his eyes in amusement when he heard his mom curse after tripping up the stairs. When she did come back down again, she was just tucking her wand away. Her red hair was dry and straight, bouncing along her shoulders in layers. She wore simple dress pants and a long sleeved white blouse that was rolled up to her elbows, and was just snapping on a bracelet as she made her way over to him.

"You all good to go honey?" she asked.

"Um, do I need to get changed?" Harry asked, looking down at his simple straight cut dark blue denims, black belt and form fitting black shirt.

Lily laughed, "No sweetie, you're not the one who's on the job, don't worry about it. You look wonderful by the way.

"So do you," he gave her winning smile, earning him another laugh.

"Come along now, let's get to the floo," Lily ushered her son over to the fire.

Arriving in the Sinclairs living room, Harry stood at the side awkwardly as his mother introduced him as her son. The Sinclairs adults were both dark haired, the mother, Hana, was a beautiful Asian with long straight black hair that fell to mid-back. Her face was shaped aristocratically, with refined bone structure and fair skin, bright brown eyes and elegantly shaped eyebrows. She greet Harry with a smile, and Harry couldn't help but smile back at the gracious woman.

The father, Alex, was a smiling man that Harry thought resembled Sirius. He had short black hair, laugh lines about his face and brilliant blue eyes that were both stern and gentle on his tan alabaster skin. Like his wife, the air around him seemed to scream of noble descent. Next to his wife's slim and small frame, his own slim and lean muscled six foot two frame standing next to her five foot five one, Alex and Hana made quite the stunning sight for Harry.

"Welcome to our home Harry," Hana beckoned to the couch opposite.

He sat next to his mom, who was pulling out notes and papers from the bag that she had taken along with her. He gave Hana a nod and a smile, "Thank you for having me."

Alex wrapped an arm around his daughter's shoulders, "Well, it's our pleasure. You'll be helping us a great deal with some of our questions."

Allison blushed, giving Harry a shy smile. She took after both her parents, but Harry saw that she resembled her mother more than her English noble father. She was slim like both her parents, her eyes a warm brown with short chin length black hair neatly parted down the middle. He smiled back in reply, fighting the urge to chuckle when he saw the fourteen year old shyly duck her head. She wore frameless glasses and was dressed casually in a blue sundress that looked stunning with her fair skin and inherited looks from both her parents.

"I'll be glad to be of any assistance," he said sincerely, folding his hands onto his lap.

Both Sinclair adults smiled at him gratefully and from his peripheral vision, he knew his mom was beaming proudly.

"So," Lily took out a pen, "Where would you like to start off with first?"

Alex chuckled, "Well, I guess we'd like to know of some of the occupations that magical folk work in. We're aware of ones available in our world, but not so much in the magical one." His humour in his last statement was shared by his wife. Allison brought a dainty hand to her mouth as she giggled.

Lily grinned, nodding, "Yes, that's a question most parents ask. Mine as well were quite concerned about what I could do with a magical education instead of a regular one here."

Harry tilted his head to the side curiously. Both parties seemed to ignore or chose to not use the term 'muggle.' It was rather curious, since Harry was used to throwing the term around casually in his everyday life.

"Yes," Hana smiled, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder, "We just want to know that our daughter's future will be secure."

Lily nodded, bringing out a booklet, "This is a booklet of wizarding occupations that I've put together for you." She passed it along, "It's yours to keep and for Allison to use as reference."

The Sinclairs thanked her happily. Alex turned to Harry as his daughter and wife opened to the first page showing a few possible Ministry positions, "And what do you plan on doing with your life young man?"

Harry flushed at the sudden attention, "Er…well, I haven't quite decided yet." He felt himself shrink at his answer before hastily continuing, "I graduated early and I'm taking this upcoming year to work with my mom." He shrugged now, shyly smiling, "I want to be sure of what I want to do with my life before I throw myself into it."

It seemed to be the right thing to say since all three adults were smiling at him and Allison was looking at him with surprise.

"You mean you're not going into university?" she asked softly, eyes in no way mocking or malicious, only curious.

He shrugged again, "I haven't really made up my mind. The majority of the occupations in the wizarding world only require you to have your NEWTS. Though, that isn't to say that magical universities aren't being attended." He reassured the startled family, "My friend Hermione, a genius really, has offers from magical universities from all around Europe, and even some from North America...so I guess you can say from all around the world. She's really into magical theories, and these universities offer her a lot of research material and jobs doing it while she's there studying."

"She studies as a profession?" Alex asked bemused.

Harry chuckled, "Hermione is bookworm; she loves her books. And there are always people out there with odd questions, and they're lazy enough to pay those who like to learn to find the information for them."

Everyone laughed, and Harry started to relax, sipping the tea Hana had served earlier.

"What other professions are your friends perusing?" Hana asked curiously.

Harry tapped his chin thoughtfully, thinking of those he knew and what he knew of their ambitions. "Well, my friend Draco," Harry grinned along with his mother, "Is inheriting his family fortune, but his father is refusing to allow him access until he can prove his maturity by taking on a paying job."

Alex raised a brow, clearly impressed.

"Draco plans to prove his maturity," Harry continued, smile growing, "By becoming a model."

They all laughed, Harry chuckling in remembrance of that conversation with the blond. Hermione had been scandalized. "Hm, then there's Neville, he's becoming a Herbologist. He's got a talent with plants, and in the magical world, magical plants are essential to the potions along with healing creams and balms." Allison perked up and Hana nodded for him to continue. He sipped his tea, thinking of more career options to list for the curious Sinclairs. "Um, another one of my friends, Daphne wants to be a medi-witch," he nodded to Allison to get her attention, thought he had already gotten it, "That would require university along with an apprenticeship."

Allison's eyes lit up, and Harry grinned, "Are you interested in healing?"

"Oh yes," she said enthusiastically before flushing a second later, eyeing both her surprised parents. It seemed that she hadn't informed them of this. Both smiled encouragingly at her though, and the teen relaxed, smiling shyly still at them both. Harry found that he had to hold in a coo, he found Allison simply adorable.

"A Healer is a wonderful profession," Lily said, green eyes warm, "It's a lot of work, but I believe that it is worth it in the end. There is so much that healing magic can do, and sadly, it's one of the more neglected fields of magic studied."

"How so?" Hana asked with a worried frown.

"Oh," Lily was quick to comfort, "It's just that it takes a considerably large amount of control. Healing magic is all about precise control over your magic, about the amount of power you put into a spell in order to regulate the magic and what's its healing. Putting too much magic or too little into a spell can affect the outcomes of the healing. What I meant when I said it was a more neglected field is that many don't have that kind of controlled mindset. I must admit, many a young people," she eyed her son, "are quite hot-headed."

"I am not hot-headed," Harry deadpanned.

"Of course dear," Lily gave his head a pat, ignoring his indignant cry, turning to the amused Sinclairs. "I believe though," she smiled at Allison, "that Healing would be a wonderful profession that would suit Allison. Should you choose to study in that field, I'm believe that you'll do well."

"Thank you," the teen in question flushed from the praise.

The sound of the door shutting jolted everyone as a male voice called out. "I'm home."

"We're in here," Hana called. She turned to Harry and Lily, giving her two guests an embarrassed smile, "I apologize for the interruption, that would be my son, Wesley."

"What're you all doing in…" the boy, or rather man, trailed off as he stopped in the doorway, finely shaped brow raised, "Oh."

Harry felt heat flaming his face. He had already seen the Sinclair family and had decided that the entire lot was gorgeous and in Allison's case, adorable. But seeing their son, Harry wanted to fan himself. The other male who looked to be only a few years older than Harry himself was simply dressed in black jeans that hugged the male's legs just right. The man, for Harry couldn't think to say 'boy,' was topless and he felt his face deepen in colour as his eyes raked the man's chest. There wasn't an ounce of fat, only muscle and definition. One arm held what Harry saw was a wet shirt, answering his silent question as to where the missing piece of clothing was.

"Wesley!" Hana reprimanded at his appearance.

He grinned easily back at his mother.

Harry wanted to swoon. The man's had pierced his ears pierced twice on each ear lobe with one cartilage piercing high up on his right ear. His hair was just as inky as his parents, long and tied back with an elastic band. His face held all the fine bone structure that he had inherited from his mother, and even his eyes held the distinctive Asian shape his mother had, giving a hint to a part of ancestry. And whereas Allison had inherited her mother's eyes, Wesley's clearly took after his father in this regard. They were blue.

Gorgeous shades of ocean blue that were staring straight at him.

A slow sensual smirk was curling up those plump lips. "Hello," the man purred, darks darkening minutely.

Harry felt himself flush even redder as everyone turned to stare at him. He could see his mother trying to stifle her giggles at the corner of his eye. He wanted to die now. The Sinclair adults likewise were trying to compose themselves, but he could see that their lips were twitching. Allison herself was eyeing her brother and Harry in amusement, the red flush on her face disappearing and giving way to delight at Harry's sudden plight due to her older brother's appearance.

The man simply grinned predatorily at the seventeen year old teen.

"Wesley," Hana coughed in warning, but Harry knew she was holding in laughter.

Oh dear Merlin, he must look like an idiot, Harry flushed in embarrassment. He was practically drooling over their son in front of them. What would they think of him now?

"Go get dressed son," Alex gave into his amused laughter, "You're becoming a detriment in our discussion."

"What kind of discussion are we talking about?" Wesley smirked, eyes still not moving from Harry. "Whatever it is, I want a part of it."

Harry ducked, not knowing his face could get this hot.

"Now," Hana said in a stern voice. She wasn't fooling anyone; they could all hear her hidden amusement. Harry felt his mortification grow. He was drooling over a man, in front of said man's mother. Oh dear Merlin, could it get any worse?

Wesley chuckled, and Harry held back a shiver of pleasure at hearing the deep reverberating sound that seemed to pierce right through him. "Okay, Okay, be back in a moment," the man said, leaving.

A second later, his head popped back into the doorway, stopping Alex from speaking and blue eyes finding Harry's instantly. "My name's Wesley by the way. I'll be right back." And with the last word, he disappeared again after introducing himself.

Lily laughed, "You have quite the son there." Her eyes were flickering over to Harry every few seconds, a large smile on her face.

Alex chuckled, "He's quite a piece of work that boy."

A piece of art, Harry corrected Mr. Sinclair within his mind. It was true though, the man that was Wesley Sinclair was simply stunning. With that though, Harry wanted to hit himself, he had already embarrassed himself. If he didn't stop thinking about the Sinclairs' son this way, his face was going to be left in a permanent shade of red for the rest of his visit.

Hana laughed daintily, relaxing in Harry's and Lily's presence, eyes bright, "I apologize for our son's state of appearance." Her eyes lingered on Harry with a teasing smile.

He flushed in response, "That's ok."

Both Sinclair adults gave him a pleased smile, but Harry felt they were holding in laughter.

Lily didn't though, laughing outright at her son's expense, "More than ok if your face was anything to go by."

"Mom!" Harry gaped in mortification.

The Sinclairs gave in now, and even Allison joined in on the laughter as Harry shrank back into his seat, face flaming and wanting nothing more than to throw his invisibility cloak over himself. Oh Merlin, he was never going on another home-visit with his mother again. Next time, he would stick to paperwork thank you very much. There was nothing embarrassing about putting together information packets; he'd only need a computer, a printer and a stapler. Simple, embarrassment free.

"What's so funny?" Wesley asked, returning into the room, black t-shirt hugging his chest quite nicely. A fact that Harry was tactfully trying to ignore, sadly without success.

Harry wanted to die…again…at the laughter that resonated in the room when his face just went redder. They had all been watching him when Wesley had entered the room.

"Okaaaay," the man drew out the word in amusement and made his way, more like saddled his way up to Harry and placing himself down quite comfortably next to the flustered teen. He gave a winning smile to a red-faced Harry, "Hope you don't mind sharing," he pointed to where his family was sitting opposite, "As you can see, they're all rather territorial about that couch."

Harry only nodded when Wesley asked to share because he wasn't sure he wanted to embarrass himself any further. He didn't know how to respond to the man's later comment though. But it seemed he was saved when Allison rolled her eyes, as though used to such comments, while both her parents snorted at their son's comment.

Hana gave an exaggerated sigh, facing Lily, "I'd like to say he usually isn't like this…but well," she waved her hands helplessly at a beaming Wesley.

Lily grinned in return, "I can emphasize. Despite my son's good behaviour as of yet today, I can't keep count of the number of times I'm called in by his teachers at school for some stunt he's pulled." Both mothers shared a knowing smile.

Wesley swung an arm around Harry's shoulder, and Harry, to his mortification, squeaked in surprise at the move. Lily was not successful in hiding her teasing smile, nor were the Sinclair adults. Allison was openly grinning at the picture the two males made. Harry on the other hand, was trying to remind himself to breathe. The man's cologne was enticing and Harry felt his mind fog up, clouded as his senses went in overdrive. The spicy and musky scent of Wesley made Harry want to melt, but the arm draped casually around his shoulders kept him grounded, but at the same time, the contact burned at him pleasantly.

"So," Wesley said, ignoring everyone else but Harry, rolling the words off his tongue with ease, "What's your name beautiful?"

Harry didn't know if he had ever felt this flustered before.

...


End file.
